


Slippery When Wet

by Adara_Rose



Series: the x-rated collection [14]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Bathtub Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 21:06:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7986208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adara_Rose/pseuds/Adara_Rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After having spent the night with the Inquisitor, Dorian is in rather desperate need of a bath. </p><p>...He really should have remembered to lock the door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slippery When Wet

Dorian leans back in the tub, letting the warm soapy water soothe his aching muscles even as it stings the numerous bite marks littering his body. Moaning softly, he rests his legs on each side of the tub, leaving him wide open to receive an imaginary lover. He slides his fingers down slowly, past his hungry cock, down between his legs. He presses a questing finger into his raw, aching hole. The sensation is somewhere between pleasure and pain, encouraging him to press in deeper.

He leans back further, raising his hips to provide a better angle, as he slips a second finger in. It goes easy, he's so loose from earlier couplings he finds no resistance. He closes his eyes, moaning softly as the pain-tinted pleasure builds within. He slides his second hand down under the water, wraps it around his leaking member, stroking slowly as he presses his fingers inside, both cleaning out the remains of earlier activities and arousing the need for more.

He grips his cock harder, brushing over the drooling head with his thumb, gasping as he presses his fingers in deeper. His stomach muscles are trembling from the exertion at both holding the pose and keep breathing, but it feels too good to care. He arches his neck, as if allowing his imaginary lover access, twisting his fingers just so.

The noise that falls from his lips is somewhere between a moan and a whimper. The exquisite mix of pleasure and pain sends him spiraling higher, the hand fisting his cock works faster, his thighs tense. He twists the fingers buried in his hungry ass, not quite finding the spot that the inquisitor ruthlessly stimulated last night, but close enough. It's close enough and he presses just a bit harder, fingers clenching instinctively around his cock.

His orgasm takes him by surprise, ripping through his sore body from somewhere deep within, his seed spilling into the warm water as his insides clamp down on his fingers. He lets out a long, low moan that might be his lover's name as he fists his spewing cock, drawing the pleasure out as long as possible. 

But at last it ends, as all good things must, and he sinks boneless into the water, panting harshly. He feels warm and languid and well-used, but at the same time anxious and aching for more. 

He lies peaceful, almost tranquil, just enjoying the last ebbs of his orgasm, the warmth of the water and the sweet scent of the soap. He wonders how long he should wait to sneak back into the inquisitor's quarters.

His equilibrium is broken by the water splashing as someone steps into the tub. His eyes immediately flash open, panicked, to be met with the amused twinkle that had gotten him into this state in the first place.

The inquisitor stands before him, gloriously nude and gloriously hard, his red hair hanging loose and free around his slim shoulders. He's smirking as he slowly kneels in the tub, finding his space between Dorian's thighs. His mouth is as greedy as it was before, his hands find just the right places to touch and stroke as he awakens Dorian's hunger once more. 

They press together, the water wrapped around them like a protective shroud as their bodies find and meet each other, pressing and gliding, moans silenced by the other's mouth, hands roaming, hips moving. The water spilling over the edge of the tub has no consequence for either of them as they come together once more. The inquisitor buries his face in Dorian's wet, sweaty neck as he reaches his peak, tasting soap and sweat and sex and skin. Dorian's eyes roll back in his head, his toes curl, his thighs lock up. He buries his fingers in the inquisitor's hair, a sound almost like a sob slipping from his lips as he trembles with his own pleasure.  

After, the water cooling rapidly around them, they lie in each other's arms, not speaking. They do not need to. Dorian smiles, sighs, strokes the inquisitor's too-thin back and promises himself to lock the door in the future.


End file.
